


Shattered

by Cinlat



Series: Tumblr Prompts & Drabbles [16]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Multiple Prompt Challenge, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Relationship Problems, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: Balic Cormac hasn't come to terms with Fynta's new outlook on life.





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt From Keirra (look her up on Ao3!):** I challenge you to work these into a single fic: “you never came”, “i just need to know that something’s real”, “look me in the eyes and say that again.” with the same stipulations, any order, any characters, any pronouns.  
>  **Word Count:** 1009
> 
> A bit of a peek into Cormac's mindset about all the things happening in my fic, _Heart on a Trigger_.

Balic trudged into camp, soaking wet, covered in Force knew what, and exhausted. He and Abbeth had been on duty for the last six hours, taking up the slack while Jorgan visited Odessen. The first thing that Cormac noticed upon return was the parked shuttle. His heart picked up speed with mingled excitement and despair. 

“You alright, Cormac?” Abbeth asked, head tilted like Elara used to when she was reading someone’s vitals. It was fascinating how many traits the Kel Dor shared with Balic’s wife. He often wondered if there were universal medic gestures ingrained in them in school, or if it was a certain personality. 

“Looks like the boss is back,” Cormac answered, then slapped the other man’s shoulder. “You know how much I miss our furry leader.” 

Abbeth chuckled, helmet shaking from side to side, then turned towards the check in tent. In truth, Cormac wanted a report on how things were going back at the main base. He couldn’t stop thinking about Fynta’s wellbeing, or if things had gotten any better between Aric and his estranged wife. Balic hated seeing the Cathar in pain, but Fynta refused to see reason.

 Cormac headed for the Command tent, pulling his helmet free to reveal indistinct voices flowing out the half open flap. No doubt the exiles had rushed Jorgan with a plethora of complaints about how hard his subordinates pushed them. For the most part, Cormac didn’t mind their guerrilla group, but there were some that would end up nothing more than cannon fodder if they didn't get their act straight. Those were the ones he pushed the hardest. 

Rubbing a hand over the top of his head to dispel the phantom helmet sensation, Cormac pushed into the crowded command tent to find not exiles, but heavily armored soldiers. He paused, blinked a couple of time, then his breath caught. “We’ll bug out from here, travel through the sewer lines that Koth marked, then advance on the target.”

Fynta stood at the holotable, a map of Zakuul pulled up, and her new squad fanned out around her. Jorgan leaned against a far table, arms crossed, and clearly not a part of the mission planning. Cormac waited, for her briefing to end, then scooted around the bulky figures to check on his commanding officer. “How’d it go?” 

The Cathar sighed, but refused to give voice to his thoughts. That said all that Cormac needed to know. When Fynta vacated the tent, Balic followed. “Oye, we need to talk.” She paused, slowly raised an eyebrow over her shoulder, then turned. Cormac knew that expression well enough to tuck tail and run, but he’d had enough of Fynta’s flippedness towards her family. He stood his ground, hands on hips, and glared down into the coldest blue eyes he’d ever seen. 

“You really want to do this here, soldier?” Fynta’s tone chilled Cormac all the way to his soul. Where had his best friend gone? The woman who would do anything for family, who wouldn’t stop until they were all happy and safe. Together. 

“You got a better place?” Cormac refused to be cowed by her glare, and his heart leapt a fraction when Fynta jerked her head towards the swamp. She hadn’t blown him off, maybe there was hope. 

They were well out of range of the camp when Fynta turned on him. Balic felt the brunt of her punch even through his armor, and staggered in shock. “What the hell, Fynta?” 

“Me?” The woman exclaimed, adding a couple of colorful curses that Cormac hadn’t heard in a long time. “What right do you have, calling me out in the middle of the camp?” 

“The same you have to pretend we don’t exist,” Cormac shot back. Six years of fear and frustration came to a head. “We are family, Fynta. _Aliit._ That used to mean something to you.” 

Fynta sighed, giving the impression of being burnt out. “It still does.”   

Folding his arms, Cormac pressed on. He was tired too, sick of watching his best friend trot around like their years together meant nothing. “You were out for _months_ , and we had to hear about it from Jonas Balkar. Do you have any idea what that did to Jorgan?” 

Rage burned in Fynta’s eyes as she took a step closer, still capable of giving the impression of being just as big as Cormac. “I was in carbonite for five-fierfeking- _years_ . _You_ never came.” The moment those words left her lips, everything in Fynta’s countenance deflated. “I’m sorry, Cormac. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

When Fynta reached for him, Balic took a step back. “So, that’s it?” He asked, surprised at the ice in his own voice. “That’s why you really agreed to supply the exiles, isn’t it?” He’d been a fool to believe that it was because Fynta trusted them to do a good job. It was to keep Havoc Squad out of the way. Out of her life. 

“What do you want me to say, Cormac?” Fynta snapped. “I’m doing the best I can with what I’m given.” 

Cormac closed the distance, resting his hands on Fynta’s shoulders and barely resisting the urge to shake sense into her. “I want you to tell me that you’re trying,” he all but pleaded. “I want to know that the next time you smile at me, that it’s not just a ploy.” Cormac tried to hold Fynta’s gaze, but she focused on everything except him. “Damn it, Fynta. I need to know that something’s real.” 

“Of course, it is,” Fynta snorted, finally meeting Balic’s glare with one of her own for a fraction of a second before staring past him. “I’m trying the only way that I know how.”  
  
“Then, look me in the eyes and say that again.” Fynta turned her head, and Balic cursed. So, that was it. He had an answer. Pulling away, Cormac started back for the camp, his heart shattered beyond repair. With every step, one thought resonated in his mind, _I left my wife and son—for this._


End file.
